Home Invaders
by DemonicPiano
Summary: All Arthur wanted to do was enjoy a good book, but his plans were ruined when a Frenchman had to get himself stuck in a toilet, and other people making his day worse.


_"There was blood everywhere! My blood! Oh god! Who could have done this?!"_

The man found himself leaning forward, green eyes darting back and forth, eagerly soaking in the words in the book that his nose was almost shoved into. A thump made him jump, followed by a "Ahhhh! Arthur help me!". He groaned and unwillingly set the book on the end table beside a chair being held together with duck tape after placing a page marker.

A flash of ginger and white fur brushed by his leg, his cat letting out a meow of alarm as he truged towards the bathroom. He cussed under his breath and flicked on the light. A blond man with stubbles decorating his chin was sticking out of the toilet. He stared at Arthur in alarm.

" _Mon cher_ , you must help me for I am stuck in this strange contraption!"

"Francis! What the hell are you doing in my house in the first place? Did I not get a restraining order?"

The French man's blue eyes were wide with pleading. " _S'il tu plaît!_ I'm begging! I'll do anything if you could get me out of this...stink situation!"

"Does that include leaving my property?" Arthur put his hands on his hips.

Francis frowned and nodded.

Arthur sighed and approached the hopless man with his rear end dipped in the bowl. He wrapped his arms around his torso and pulled upwards. "I have no idea how you got wedged in there, and if you were using the toilet, then why are your trousers still up?"

"Heh, funny story. Ow!" Francis winced and placed his hands on the seat to lift himself without much success. "I was reading on the toilet when I slipped."

"And why exactly are you here? Couldn't you read on your toilet?"

Francis let out another grunt. "This water is soaking my _derrière!"_

Arthur let go of him and backed away. "If you could have stayed home with your fat hips then you would not be in that position!"

"These fat hips could be in a lot of positions," he purred, only to yelp as Arthur pushed down the toilet handle and breezed out the stuffy bathroom. "Arthur! _Où tu vas?!"_

"Butter would be useful," Arthur mumbled to himself as he stepped into the hallway. "If that doesn't work, I will have to get my seat removed, or I could leave him there to cry about it. Both options are unappealing."

He made his way toward his kitchen. Sounds of rumaging and soft, offkey singing drifted into the diningroom. Arthur froze. Another intuder was in this house. Singing, no less, in the kitchen he just had repaired from a misperhaps with a frying pan and a toaster. Yet the voice was familiar, and Arthur groaned internally. When he walked into the kitchen, something clattered to the floor, followed by cussing.

"Get out of my refrigerator!" He shouted at a butt sticking out of said appliance.

It back up, revealing a young man with a stubborn cowlick curling out from his forhead. He swallowed whatever he had stored in his mouth and pushed up his glasses. He smiled, "Yo, Artie! Hey man! I ran out of pickles!"

"So you decide to steal mine?"

"No, no! You got it wrong! I am...um, borrowing them?" He shrunk a bit.

"Borrowing implies the item being returned, Alfred! I can say with the rate you are gorging yourself with _my_ pickles, you do not plan on doing so!"

Alfred shrugged. "I need protein." He popped another in his mouth, the snack snapping into bits. Green juice flew out of his mouth as he asked, "Do pickles even have protein?"

Arthur curled his nose. "Why don't you Google it?"

"Hey! That's a good idea!" Alfred reached for his phone, but the pickle jar was in his other arm, that which slipped from the effort and shattered on the tiled floor. Both men stared at the mess. "Oops?" He shrugged. "Oh, I suddenly remember, I have to do...a thing..."

"You clean up your mess young man!" Arthur jabbed a finger at the pile of broken glass and pickle juice.

Alfred swung open a window and called, "Not my pickles, not my kitchen, not my mess!"

"Alfred!" He stomped after him. He ducked his head out the window, only to see him sprinting across his yard. "Ugh!" The Englishman slammed the window shut and turned to the spill.

"Arthur!" Francis whined from the bathroom.

"I have other... _things_ to take care of first," Arthur told himself and grabbed a stick of butter from the fridge, and a knife from the butcher block. He entered the bathroom once more holding it threatenly. Francis stopped squirming and gawked at him.

He let out uneasy, French laughter. "Arthur, what are you doing? I know we had our quarrels, but it doesn't need to end like this!"

"What are you blabbering on about? I'm going to cut you free. That is what you wanted!"

"You're not going to slather me with butter and eat me while I'm vunerable?"

"Do you want me to?"

" _Non!_ " Francis wiggled. "Just...do what you have to do."

Arthur knelt down and took the knife to this jacket.

"I can't watch!" Francis exclaimed, throwing a hand over his eyes.

"Stop being a drama queen and get pushing yourself out while I use the butter!" Arthur barked.

After at least a dozen of inappropraite comments about using the common food in a provacative way, a pile of once expensive garments, and a sobbing Frenchman curled on the floor covered in butter, Arthur lightly kicked his side and told him to get out, leaving the bathroom before seeing if he actually did so.

His fingers curled in anticipation as he approached the book waiting for him where he had left it. He settled into the trashed chair and smiled a bit to himself, cracking open the novel. A high pitched screech from a different location ripped him from the suspenceful words. Arthur let a growl escape through his teeth and he agitatedly set the book down onto the table once more. It sounded again, followed by a _thump._

"Someone is treating my washing machine harshly," Arthur felt one of his infamous eyebrows twitch. He stood up and stormed after the sound just a few doors down from the restroom where Francis cried tears of a man who had nothing else to lose. "Who the bloody hell is in my house now- gah!" He flinched and covered his face with his arms.

"Don't mind me," a deep voice grumbled.

"Ludwig! I did not think to see you here of all places!" Arthur pointedly looked away from his hulking figure. "D-do you have other...acquaintences to... help you do whatever you are doing?"

Ludwig followed his gaze to his bare legs. "I am using your washer and dryer," he stated. "They had pasta sauce spilled onto them."

"Why did you not use a local laundry mat?" Arthur challenged.

"That would be inconvient for the story," Ludwig shrugged casually.

"Wha-"

The dryer door swung open, and an Italian peeked out. "Did someone say pasta?"

"Get back in there!" Ludwig barked, slamming the door shut. "You've cause enough problems for one day!"

"Can I not use my own things in my own house?" Arthur swished a hand at him.

Ludwig stared at him blankly. "You owe me, remember? My brother still cannot wear his shirts inside right."

Arthur coughed. "Still? It has been four months!"

A second bathroom resided behind the washroom, where an asian man with only a fluffy white towel around his waist kicked open the door and brandished a hairdryer. "This device does not work! I am filing a complaint to the owner, aru!"

Arthur gnashed his teeth together. "Wang," he greeted politely. "Is there something failing at your home as well, and that is why you choose my house of all the people you know to bathe and dry your _girly_ hair?"

"You expect me to use any of my freaky neighbor's bathrooms?" He retorted. "That's how people turn up missing."

Another man popped up from outside and leaned into the washroom. "Yao!" He cheered, his childish smile unknownly growing creepy. "You can use my non-freaky bathroom! That's what good neighbors do, and you will not be able to turn up if you are missing!~"

"There he is!" Yao screeched, and threw the hairdyer at the newcomer, who easily dodged it with an eruption of giggles. He spun around to flee into the bathroom, the towel fluttering to the floor.

"I didn't summon you!" Arthur spat. "What are you doing here, Ivan?"

"I smelled a capalist around here, so I thought I should come here to point and laugh."

"Arthur! I got stuck in the toilet again!"

His stomach flopped and a hot flush of anger hit his face. "I'm never going to finish my book," he growled. "Unless I get rid of everyone. That which gives me an idea," he reached behind himself with a wicked expression.

Ludwig leaned away from him, his blue eyes widening. "What in the world are you planning-"

It was too late. Arthur pulled out a black stick with a star on top of it, chanted strange words, and the house was filled with a bright light.

Yao burst out of the bathroom. "I am wearing a tutu! I am too old for tutus!"

"I think it suits you!" Ivan chirped. He kicked a leg out from behind himself. "I look pretty, _da_?"

"I had worse," Ludwig nonchalantly shrugged, pulling the pink skirt down a bit.

"I spilled spaghetti on my new skirt!" A high voice squeaked from inside the dryer.

"Wow! What kind of party happened when I was gone?" Alfred's voice boomed from behind Arthur.

Said man flinched and groaned aloud before turning to face the speaker. "Are you here to clean up the mess you left behind?"

Alfred scoffed. "You didn't clean that up yourself? Man, you're slow."

"As you can see, I have had company," Arthur spat.

"Whatever. I brought soda!" He lifted up his shirt and multiple Coca-Cola bottles tumbled out.

Ivan sighed. "I knew I felt my day get worse."

"Keep making that face, and perhaps that nose will grow on it," Alfred stated.

One of the bottles fell right on Arthur's foot. He yelped, and leaped in pain. "That's it!" He spat. "All of you! I am done! Get out of my house!"

"But I'm in the toilet, _mon ami_!" Francis bellowed.

Alfred released obnoxious cackling. "Look out red your face is getting, Artie! Oh, man! I'm gonna need more pickles!"

"No you are not!" Arthur pointed the wand at him.

"Put the child's toy away," Ludwig grunted.

Arthur whirled on him. "It's not a toy!"

"I wonder what else Arthur has that we have yet to know about," Yao mused.

"We should look around some more!" Ivan agreed.

"What's this nonsense?" Arthur glanced between everyone.

"Maybe after I'm done with my clothes," Ludwig shrugged.

"We could start in the bathroom where that strange, French laughter is coming from!" Alfred bounced up and down a bit.

Arthur grabbed his shirt collar as he turned around and stood in the door way, prohibiting anyone from leaving the small room. "Oh no you don't! I will not let you carry on with this disruptions and gayness when all I have been wanting to do is read a book in peace!"

"Great, the old man is on a war path again," Alfred grumbled.

The wand started to glow as the weilder's anger got the best of him. He snarled, "No one will come into my house again, if I do not have a house to go into!"

The home invaders let out a collective yell of fright, and the house was enveloped by a bright light once more. The house was gone. No one was spared.


End file.
